Postables Walk On the Wild Side
by MisterMitty
Summary: Camp fire, nostalgia, favorite SSD moments. From a BubbaCatt story.
1. Chapter 1

"Are we there yet?" Shane asked for the third time. 

A common question that usually comes out of the backseat of a family SUV filled with kids to be answered by a gruff dad who would rather be playing golf. Without the kids and the SUV. On this particular sunny Saturday morning the question came out of the back seat of an RV filled with Postables. The response was a chorus of laughter and an approving nod from Papa Joe who had put on the mantle of 'dad' and was having the time of his life. 

This fun filled road trip had been set in motion the previous Monday and began with a melancholy Postable waxing nostalgic about a lost friend, a bear who had played the part of Balthazar the Third Wise Man at a Christmas pageant. Bearthezar had never returned home to the DLO after the pageant and Norman – the melancholy – feared the worst. Riotous living and abandonment of Postable duties to live as a 'party animal' as Shane had pegged him. 

Monday |

The first thing that Oliver noticed when he pushed open the door to the DLO was Norman staring absently at a space along the back wall of the DLO. "Good morning Norman," he called, setting briefcase and hat on his desk. When no response came back, he took a closer look. His friend was wringing his fingers together as if playing a game of Cat's Cradle without string. Not a good sign. Oliver was a compassionate supervisor who watched over the DLO family carefully, and Norman's actions were a warning flag that something was wrong. 

"What are you looking at Norman?" 

Norman waved at the empty space next to the wall. "It's what we aren't looking at that bothers me," he replied. "Oliver, where is Bearthezar?" 

"Morning all," Shane's voice called. She crossed the room to Oliver's side and handed him his Steamboat Americana with a carefully place lip-stick kiss on the side. Fresh. 

"Thank you Ms McInerney, he said, then let his free arm slide around her shoulders. "I enjoyed dinner last night," he whispered, deliberately touching her ear with his lips. Her very subtle shudder was his reward. 

"Was it a real date, Mr. O'Toole?" she asked and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

"It was a real date," he laughed. 

"What are we looking at Norman?" she asked. 

"Nothing," Norman said. 

"Norman is lamenting the loss of our dear Brother Bear Bearthezar." 

"Say that three times really fast," Shane whispered. 

"He is a Postable and now he is gone and I don't know why," Norman said. "He should be here." 

Shane moved to stand behind Norman and gave him a hug. "Don't worry Norman, we'll find out what happened to your – to our brother." 

"Look who's here?" Rita said from the doorway as Papa Joe followed her into the DLO. Followed immediately by, "Norman, what's wrong?" 

"It's Bearthezar," he replied. 

"I'm sorry Norman," she said and moved to his side. 

"Who is Bearthezar?" Papa Joe asked. 

"Good morning dad," Oliver said.

Shane gave Oliver's father a hug. "Bearthezar is the grizzly who was lost in the mail and spent a couple of years with us here in the DLO," she told him. 

"Grizzly? Stuffed I hope." 

"Yes, stuffed. We sort of used him in a Christmas pageant at the hospital and he never came home." 

"So what brings you to the DLO this fine day?" Oliver asked. 

"Well, I had an idea and was talking it over with the Frontier Duchess here on the way in." 

"Oh, it's a great idea," Rita said from Norman's side. "He wants us all to go camping." 

"NO!" Shane blurted and then quickly covered her mouth with her hand as every eye turned to her. "No," she almost whispered. 

Oliver turned to Shane. "A very strong negative, Ms McInerney. What is that about?" Then, "Shane!" when she suddenly teared up. His arms went around her and she sighed into him. "What's wrong?" he asked. 

She sniffled, both her hands on his chest, fingers kneading gently. "I was so afraid on that mountain, afraid that I had lost you. I cannot do that again," she was whispering now. 

"You both know we're still here?" Papa Joe asked "Shane, it's alright. I don't intend to go through that again either." 

Shane pushed back, adding distance between herself and Oliver. "Besides, I don't want to have to call - ." She left the sentence hanging without a name but Oliver knew who it was. 

He smiled and finger combed her hair back. "Shane," he whispered and gave her the same look of adoration she had seen in the Chapel. "You are not going to lose me," he said so softly that the words touched her heart as if he'd shouted. 

"If its bears you're worried about, Oliver is very good with bears," Papa Joe said. 

"Come on Shane. Norman and I are in," Rita said. 

"No," Norman said. "No bears." 

"I thought you liked bears," Papa Joe said. 

"Not the living breathing part." 

"Norman?" Rita said sweetly and batter her eyelashes at him. He exhaled slowly and shrugged, Norman-speak for "OK". "Come on Shane. Don't leave me hanging as the only girl." 

Shane looked at Rita and growled softly under her breath. "Well, I suppose that someone should provide adult supervision. You better keep me safe Mr. O'Toole." 

"I will," Oliver and Papa Joe said at the same time and then laughed. 

"Sounds like a plan then," Papa Joe said. "The good news is that we don't have to caravan cars to get there. I have access to an RV and we can travel en masse." 

"What RV?" Oliver asked. 

"Yeah," Joe said wincing at Oliver. "That might be the bad news. I will be bringing a friend."


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday |

So we come to the sunny Saturday morning where the Postable's walk on the wild side begins. The Postables were gathered at the Mailbox Grille sipping coffee and awaiting the arrival of Papa Joe and the promised RV. Norman was melancholy; Rita bubbled; Shane was anxious, proven by the way her mouth slowly twitched from one side to the other; Oliver was sitting quietly, content to furtively watch the way Shane's lips moved. All four were wearing jeans and hiking boots, and all had on a flannel shirt of different colors. Coats had been bundled together for ease of carry. If they were waiting at a mall, they might have been mistaken for a group of lumberjacks. Very courteous and well mannered lumberjacks. 

"That's big," Shane said suddenly, pointing out the window at the large gray and mauve vehicle just arriving at the curb. 

"As big as a bus," Rita gasped. 

"I've never seen one up close before," came from Oliver. 

Seconds later the four Postables were lined up side by side at the curb like a troop of school kids at a bus stop when Papa Joe stepped out of the RV. Immediately behind him was 'the friend'. There were three gasps of surprise and one stunned "Oh my." 

The "Oh my" was from Oliver. 

Shane leaned into Oliver and whispered, "So what is it with O'Toole men and red heads? Is there something I should know? Should I buy stock in Clairol perhaps?" 

Oliver opened his mouth to reply, but saw the grin on her face. "I did not see this coming," he assured her. 

Papa Joe's friend was tall, slender, with long red hair that touched her shoulders. She also bore a curious resemblance to Holly, a mature version to be sure, but definitely the Holly that no longer came up in Postable conversation. 

"This is – interesting," Rita said from beside Oliver. 

"Wow," Norman said. "She looks like - ." A sharp elbow from Rita cut the thought. 

Papa Joe and the red both looked back over a shoulder to see if perhaps the odd stares coming from the Postables were meant for someone else. "Oliver," Papa Joe said. "This is my friend Charlie. She lives on the place next to mine. She raises horses and is teaching me how to ride." 

Oliver was loving the moment and smiling broadly. "Teaching you how to ride? Ok. Hello Charlie, and welcome. This is Rita, Norman, and the blonde with the laughing blue eyes is Shane." 

"Ooh, horses," Rita said. "What kind of horses do you raise?" 

"Andalusians, pure breeds, originally from the Iberian Peninsula of Spain, I am the only licensed breeder in the United States," Charlie answered. "Do you ride?" 

"Oh, I love horses," Rita said. "Have not ridden in a long time." 

Shane gave Joe a big hug, and used the opportunity to whisper in his ear. "You never met Holly, did you?" 

"No," he said as they parted. "Why do you ask?" Then his eyes grew wide. "You must be kidding?" he whispered. 

She shook her head no as she was taking Charlie's hand in both of her own. "I am glad to meet you, Charlie," she said. "And I have to know, how did you two meet?" 

Charlie laughed, a real laugh with no pretense. "That is now known in our rural neighborhood as the raccoon incident," she said. "I have a small hay shed on the edge of my property. When I entered one day to grab a long training reign, I came face to face with three raccoons. I screamed and then fell on my backside trying to get out in a hurry. My hero," she tipped her head at Joe, "vaulted the fence between our properties and waded into the fray. The door swung shut and all I could hear was a bucket clanging like a fire bell and the wild chittering of three angry raccoons. Seconds later Joe came tumbling back out and landed on the ground beside me with a bucket in one hand and a pitchfork in the other. He was all red faced and blustering and mumbled a couple of word I did not ask him to repeat. The raccoons hightailed it for the tree line and never came back." 

"It was awful," Joe said. "They have hands instead of paws. It was like being in fight with a dozen kindergarten kids that you don't want to hurt but they want to hurt you." 

"So the bucket - ." 

"That was a shield to protect myself." 

A laughing Shane took a step back, missed the curb and started to fall. A quick hand from Charlie caught her and pulled her back. "That sounds so much like something Oliver would do," Shane said. When Charlie turned to look at Joe, Shane saw the way her eyes lit up. Any resemblance to Holly vanished like steam in a breeze and she saw a woman named Charlie. "You and I are going to be friends, aren't we?" she asked. 

Charlie looked from Shane to Oliver and nodded. "We seem to have something in common. Yes, I believe that we will." 

The inside of the RV was surprisingly spacious. In front of the kitchen was a large space comparable to the backseat of a very large SUV. There were two captain's chairs in front, a wide couch on one wall and a wide bench seat on the other with a fold up table. Oliver and Shane took the couch with Shane sitting directly behind Charlie. Norman and Rita were on the other side behind Papa Joe. 

"Oh," Rita said. "Does your prairie schooner have a name?" she asked Charlie. 

"Not yet." 

"Zephyr might be appropriate," Oliver offered "From Homer's Odyssey." 

"Just so you know, I am partial to The Pirates of the Caribbean," Charlie replied. 

She and Shane exchanged a glace with Rita. "The Pearl!" all three said at the same time and then laughed. 

Papa Joe laughed. "I am going with the girls on this one, Oliver. Besides I've always wanted a parrot." 

"We may have a discussion about parrots," Charlie said. "But I have a pretty good idea how it ends." 

An hour later, on the freeway heading north, "Where are we going dad?" Oliver asked. 

Papa Joe pointed west out the window at the high ridge where the Rocky Mountains soared upward from the fruited plain. "Up there." A few minutes later the RV left the Interstate and set off on a two lane paved road as twisty as a sidewinder's back. Shane leaned into Oliver and whispered. "Your father is having a ball, isn't he?" 

Oliver chuffed. "Yes. I think that he has waited for a long time to do something like this. You having a good time dad?" he called. 

Papa Joe grinned and nodded. "I have seen him silly a time or two," Charlie said. "Raccoons and garter snakes notwithstanding, but this is a new sort of silly. I like it very much." 

"Garter snakes?" Shane asked. 

"No, no," she laughed. "That story is for another time. Maybe when it is just the two of us." 

Shane leaned into Oliver and he slipped an arm around her. "It's the mantel of dad that he's been waiting to wear," Oliver whispered. "The one he deserves to wear." 

"Camping, yeah," Rita clapped her hands. 

"Camping," Norman answered. "Bears, mountain lions, badgers, rabid bats, things that creep on the earth." Normal shuddered. 

"We could make this a Prozac sort of trip," Joe suggested. 

"What's Prozac?" Norman wanted to know. 

"Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor. It pretty much tricks your mind into thinking you're having a good time even if you're not," Rita answered. 

"Can we stop and get some?" Norman asked. 

"I am impressed. How do you know that Rita?" Charlie asked. 

"She is the Postables pride and joy," Oliver said. "She has an eidetic memory. Never forgets anything she reads." 

Rita was reading a road sign as they passed it, and cocked her head to the side, remembering something. "Isn't this the road to Mahwah?" 

"It sure is," Papa Joe said. "Same for today and yesterday too" Everybody laughed but Shane. 

"I don't get it?" 

"Say it out loud," Oliver suggested. 

"Road to Mahwah. To Mahwah." Then she rolled her eyes and settled into Oliver's side under a hail of mirth. 

"Are we there yet?" Rita asked. "I'm hungry." 

"Hello Hungry. I'm Joe." Laughter. 

"No, I'm serious," Rita said. 

"Oh. Hello Serious. I thought you were Hungry." More laughter, and that was the breaching of a dam. 

"Are we there yet?" Shane asked, laughing at herself. 

"Are we there yet?" Oliver wanted to know. 

"Are we there yet Joe?" Charlie asked. 

"I kid you not, I will turn this bus around," Joe said. But he was clearly enjoying the festive mood. 

As the road ahead reached a clearing and the RV slowed, the back seat all leaned forward to get a good look at their destination.


	3. Chapter 3

Papa Joe Takes a Walk |

When Papa Joe guided the Pearl into the campground set on a small plateau above Estes Park, it was to the delighted exclamations of "Ooh" and "Ahh" and one heartfelt "Wow" from the Frontier Duchess. "Well, if you don't like it," he said, "The site of the Donner Party Camp Out is half a day that-a-way," he pointed out into the trees.

"No dad," Oliver said. "This will do just fine."

The Pearl followed the Park Service designed flow and numbered signs until she reached a cul-de-sac of three campsites set off to one side. Papa Joe smiled to find all three empty. "Looks like we might have this little piece of earth to ourselves for the day," he murmured to Charlie. The cul-de-sac was wide, bounded by trees but had an open gap at the far end that gave a view of Estes Park. A large fire pit waited next to their parking spot, with iron grates in place for cooking. Water was available from a Little House on the Prairie style hand pump in the center of the three sites. The old fashioned hand pump fascinated Shane who worked the handle and then giggled when the water came out. "You can drink that if you want, but I would boil it first," Papa Joe warned. "Just to be safe."

A cinder block building by the road offered amenities – with showers – one for men and one for women. Oliver, Norman and Rita all made happy sounds when they saw it, and walked that way immediately to inspect – or use – the facility. When they returned, a competition was going on between Shane-Charlie and Papa Joe to see who could get their tent put up first. Shane and Charlie won. Papa Joe immediately used a pine branch to draw a line between the two tents.

"Men's," he pointed to one, "Women's", the other. "The wall of Jericho," he said pointing to the line.

Charlie laughed, "You did that just because we watched that movie the other night."

"What movie?" Shane asked.

"It Happened One Night," Rita smiled. "Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable, very romantic," she said making moon eyes at Norman.

An hour later, all the gear had been unloaded from the RV, an impressive kitchen set up on the Park Service table next to the fire pit, and a pot of fresh coffee steaming happily.

Oliver and Joe were staring off at Estes Park, Shane, Rita and Charlie had claimed three folding lawn recliners and had their feet resting on the stone walls of the fire pit. Norman was off to one side, peering between tree trunks and into the woods as if Pete's Dragon might suddenly appear. Or a long lost brother.

"Poor guy," Rita said softly. "He is so worried about Bearthezar. He's afraid his friend is lost somewhere."

"Bearthezar? Joe didn't say anything about another Postable."

"He's a stuffed grizzly that we used in a Christmas pageant to play the part of one of the Three Wise Men."

"Oh," Charlie laughed. "Well now it makes perfect sense."

Shane sat back, closed her eyes for a moment and let the unrelenting press of the city slide off into the pine needles under their feet.

"Feels good," Rita said. "Haven't been in the woods for a long time."

"My dad used to take me camping. Until the year he didn't and then never again," Shane said. "But yes, this feels the way I remember it." Charlie stood, grabbed the pot and refreshed cups. "So you and Joe?" Shane asked.

Charlie shrugged. "I noticed him when he moved in next property over. Shoot, the whole neighborhood noticed him. I thought I was going to have to fight off my friend Kathleen for a while. She had eyes for that man."

"What happened?"

"Raccoons happened. It's amazing how you can get to know someone when you introduce yourselves while sitting on your backside in the dirt. We looked at each other and laughed. What can I say, something clicked. What I never did ask him was what exactly was he prowling next to my fence." She and Shane exchanged a glance and laughed. "The raccoon incident was about the same time that he and Oliver were reconnecting. I heard all about it. If ever there was a father that needed his son, it's Joe."

"When did you hear about the disastrous camp out and nearly dying?"

"Joe called me from the hospital the day after they tucked him into that bed. Dear God how I wanted to skin him alive. I had not heard from him in three days. But it wall worked out. Over the last year I have learned that Joe's muchness is derived from that one." She nodded toward Oliver.

"Muchness? From Alice?" They laughed with each other and clinked coffee cups together. "To the Hatter."

"You know they pretty much share the same muchness?" Shane said.

"That's how I knew that we would be friends," Charlie chuffed. "It's not an acquired taste, honey. It's a calling."

When Joe and Oliver returned to the fire pit, Oliver stopped next to Shane but Papa Joe went straight through and out the other side. "That is the trail that leads to the lake," Charlie said. "It's out there about a mile. His Muchness has a lot on his mind."

"I'm going to follow him," Oliver said suddenly." And did.

"And that is who Joe has on his mind," Charlie added after Oliver had gone.

"What's going on?"

Charlie just shook her head. "Not mine to tell. Sorry." She waited for several breaths, then, "Are you going to follow him?"

"Should I?"

"Yes."

The trail made a bend through a thick grove of trees that parted suddenly to reveal the lake. Oliver stopped, took a few steps back, and then watched his father from cover. Papa Joe was sitting on a fallen log, staring at the water, and occasionally flipping a stone to make a splash.

Oliver heard nothing but he suddenly knew that he was not alone. When he turned, Shane was within arm's reach of his back. To his credit he did not jump, but it took an iron grip on his reflexes to pull it off. He looked down at her feet and then smiled. Both boots were firmly planted on pine needles and fallen leaves.

"What are you looking for?" she whispered.

"Wanted to make sure you were touching the ground."

"What?"

He reached for her hand and pulled her closer. "Angels don't have to walk," he whispered.

Shane laughed softly. "You really think I'm an - ." After the kiss she sighed. "What's Papa Joe doing?"

"He's just sitting there. Looks deep in thought."

"Why are we whispering?" she whispered.

Oliver shrugged. "Don't want to disturb him.

"Oliver can I ask you something that's been bothering me since your last camping trip?"

"Of course."

"Can you teach me to do that thing you do. To pray?"

"Of course Ms McInerney," he gasped softly.

"Oliver, there isn't a suit and tie within five miles. You can call me Shane."

He was going to kiss her again, she could see it in his eyes, the warm Oliver eyes that had greeted her in the little Chapel in the hospital. She started to rise onto her toes, lifting to put her lips to his.

"Oh bother," Papa Joe said suddenly. "You both do realize that I am sitting on the edge of a natural amphitheater don't you?" he asked without turning around. "I can hear every word you are saying."

"Busted," Shane said, her lips just an inch from Oliver's.

The kiss was short but had a whispered, "Later," attached to it. Oliver took her hand and led her to Papa Joe, then they split and one sat on either side.

"So how exactly did you two meet?" Joe asked.

"That is something of a long story, dad. Maybe later."

"Well, I want to hear it. I do think you have a very nice family, Oliver."

The man had been in such good spirits since the day had begun that when the heaviness came suddenly, it was obvious. "What is it? What's wrong?" Oliver asked.

"Am I wrong son?"

"About what dad?" For a long minute the only sounds were the lapping of the lake at a stony shore and the far off cry of a hawk looking for dinner. "About Charlie? I enjoy spending time with her. Am I wrong?"

Oliver laughed but Shane understood the question. "He is being serious Oliver. He is afraid of offending you."

"After all we've been through?"

"Yes," she said. "Don't you see? He has you back and doesn't want to lose you again."

"Oh," he said. "Well, Charlie seems very nice, honest, I don't think she even knows what the word pretentious means."

"No Oliver," Shane said. "He already knows that part or we would not be having this conversation. Truth is, between the three of us, none of us is qualified to give relationship advice. Just tell him how you feel. I know that's a difficult for a man to do, but try."

Papa Joe laughed. "Is she always this candid?"

"Oh dad, you really don't know the half of it." Oliver slipped his arm around Joe and found Shane's arm was already there. "Look dad, you don't need my approval - ." Joe started to cut him off, but Oliver continued. "But you have it. Everything I need to know was written on your face this morning when you held her hand to help her out of the Pearl."

Papa Joe nodded and relaxed.

"Are you satisfied, Ms McInerney?"

"For now," she said, leaning back to catch his eye and make the point.

"So dad."

"Yes son?"

"Now I would like to ask you a question. I consider myself to be a man of faith."

"Convinced me," Shane whispered and Joe nudged her with his elbow.

"Scripture says, "Train up a child in the way he should go, even when he is old he will not depart from it."

"Don't start with the 'old' stuff," Joe said.

"Point taken," Oliver and Shane said at the same time.

"I learned to be a man of faith because of you, because of Mrs. Genzinger my Sunday School Teacher, and others. But I sit here today and I am wondering where has your faith gone? Why are you not the man of faith I saw as a child?"

Joe sighed, picked up a small rock and made it say 'splash' as it hit the lake. "Shane is staring at the side of my face isn't she?" he asked Oliver.

"Yes, she is," he laughed.

"I really want to know," she said.

"Ok. So, let's say that faith is like a pair of nice warm wool socks. Now,remember when you were five and we had to get those special Orthopedic Shoes because you were rolling your feet an odd way?" Oliver nodded. "Well, between - ," he started to say, but Oliver and Shane already knew the history of betrayal. Joe sighed deeply, unwilling to tell it all again. "One of the consequences of an unbalanced walk – like the one you had - was that you would wear a hole in your socks."

"Oh, I see," Oliver said. "I understand."

"I let life knock me off balance and wore a hole in my nice warm wool socks," Joe said.

"Well, just darn it then," Shane said and then covered her mouth to stop the laughter. It didn't work. Joe and Oliver both joined her, threatening to roll their log over.

"I think Shane is right, dad. It is time to darn the worn socks and put your faith to work again."

"I am back in the mountains. The funny part, son, is that Charlie has been telling me the same thing. And I know she is right, you both are right. Now, I think it's about time we get back."

They all stood and Shane reached for Oliver's hand. "Shane?" Papa Joe asked. "Would you remain for a moment? Just you?"

"I will see you back at the camp," Oliver said with a smile and turned away.

Papa Joe watched until his son had disappeared into the trees. Then he turned to face Shane. "I need to ask you a question and I need a direct answer. No 'bs' between you and me, just a simple yes or no."

Shane nodded and took a deep breath because she knew what the question was going to be.

"Do you love him?"

She took another deep breath and looked Papa Joe straight in the eye. "Yes," she said and wiped at an eye suddenly wet.

Papa Joe nodded. "Please be patient with him. He needs time to heal and I believe that you were sent into his life for that very reason."

Shane threw her arms around Joe. "I promise," she whispered into his ear.


	4. Chapter 4

Bearthezar |

Oliver would never invade their privacy by asking the question, but he didn't need to. Their faces told him everything. He was standing with the others beside the campfire when Shane and Papa Joe stepped out of the trees, walking arm in arm. His father wore the face of a man content. Shane's face was all about peace. It was obvious that between them had been some sort of reconciliation and concerns put to rest. Oliver was looking right at Shane when her eyes came up and met his and the answer was there. She was saying it loud and clear in a language the two of them had been writing with each other since the day they had met and it was enough.

"Wow, something smells really good," Rita said, and kicked his muse off track.

Rita was right. Oliver took a dep breath and smiled at the wonderful aroma of fresh baked bread that was teasing his nostrils. "How is that even possible out here in the trees?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Simple if you know how," Charlie said. Near the edge of the pit fire pit was a cast iron Dutch-Oven with legs to hold it above the coals and a special lid shaped to hold more coals for plenty of heat. There was more. A simmering cast iron kettle full of homemade chili, and hangar steaks sizzling above the flames, oozing marinade that smelled of maple and brown sugar, and a fresh salad of black beans and rice, radishes, and Ricotta Salata. Rita was busy over a camp stove building enchiladas and fire roasted corn on the cob.

"What a feast?" Oliver exclaimed as Charlie slipped on a pair of heavy pot-holders and then upended the Dutch-Oven, unloading a large loaf of fresh bread onto her cutting board. Shane stepped next to him and slipped an arm around his waist.

"The woman has skills," his dad said from his other side.

"Do you want to help?" Rita asked Shane.

"Is it already prepared and frozen?"

"No."

"Then I am happy to watch."

While Charlie sliced bread, Papa Joe poured wine into small glass tumblers. "I remember thinking as a kid," Oliver said, "that it would be impossible for Abraham to have bread and wine to offer Melchizedek in the middle of nowhere. I am corrected."

"Which does not happen often," Shane laughed.

After giving thanks, Papa Joe raised a glass. "To the Postables," he said.

"And to its two new honorary members," Shane added.

"Oh, now I'm not - ," Joe started.

"Stop, Papa Joe," Rita said. "You are every bit as postal as we are.

Plates were filled, and the little family of friends sat around the Park Service table eating and laughing. "This chili is great," Rita said. "Very hearty." Norman eyed the amenities to make sure they were still there, and started eating.

"Do you want to know how hearty it really is?" Papa Joe asked.

"Yes," Rita answered.

"Pull my finger," he said reaching across the table.

"NO!" said five voices at the same time.

"Joe?" Charlie said. "Is that a positive influence?"

"Nope," he said with a proud smirk. "It's a dad thing and I am allowed."

"So what is this Divine Delivery thing?" Charlie asked.

"Ooh. I've got this one," Shane said, squaring her shoulders. "We don't find the dead letters," she said, forcing her voice to go deeper than normal. "They find us just in time to be delivered."

"I don't sound like that," Oliver said.

"You believe every letter that finds you is by Divine appointment?" Charlie asked.

Papa Joe chuffed. "I didn't believe it either. But when a sweetheart like Sandy shows up at just the right moment, the line between believe and laugh-out-loud moves toward believe."

"Ok. Convince me. How does the theory work?" Charlie asked. "Coincidence, mistake? Or literally Divine intervention?"

"Merry mix-ups perhaps, but not mistakes," Shane said. "And I have been told that 'Coincidence' is the middle name of the Almighty. The hazards are many; dog saliva, greasy stuff from streets, mailboxes exploded by clowns. Real clowns, not Miss Directed, Supervisor of the sorting room floor."

"Birthday cards, thinking of you cards, letters written by lonely hearts, happy hearts, all sentiments sent as an act of faith to people who are probably waiting for a word of encouragement or of simple hope. But," Oliver said. "Interesting word, 'but'. Those envelopes performing their providential appointments are subject to the same failings as we are. If I may paraphrase, the race is not to the Airmail or the Special Delivery, nor the battle to reinforced packaging tape, but time and chance happen to them all. God is not restricted by time and to Him, well, chance is a ridiculous jest."

"And Mister Steamboat would know," Shane nudged Oliver with her shoulder.

"Yes, he would. Thank you Cheryl."

"Cheryl?" Joe asked.

"My first day at the DLO, your son changed my name to Cheryl because he didn't want to call me Shane."

"Let me guess," Papa Joe asked, "Because of the movie by the same name?"

Oliver smiled and Shane punched him in the shoulder. "So share," Papa Joe smiled. "It is obvious that there is more where that came from."

"Rita has an obsession with owls," Norman offered, and then he and Rita both rubbed their foreheads at the same time. "Even the Bouvet Island burrowing yellowtail, which was extinct before it was born. Don't worry Rita. You will always be the jelly in my jelly donut."

"And you are the marshmallow in my cocoa," she replied.

Oliver was chuckling softly to himself. Then, "Nothing says love like crabs."

"No," Papa Joe said. "Did someone actually sat that?"

"Oh yes. Norman gave Rita a bright red stuffed crab, a gift of heartfelt encouragement. But Norman's grandmother saw the humor and expressed it," Oliver said.

"Norman has many unusual cousins with many unusual career choices," Shane said. "Some even know how to open bank vaults."

Papa Joe was grinning from ear to ear. "Out with it."

"The divine delivery process put Oliver and I into a bank vault when an alarm was triggered and the vault locked down automatically. That was the night I learned that Oliver was a actually a boy once and used to float Boulder Creek in an inner tube. I also learned that he blushes when he says the word 'lips'."

"And that there really is someone on the planet more annoying than Lester Kimsicle," Oliver added, nudging Shane with his shoulder.

"Ooh, that's hard to believe," Joe added. "But how did you end up in the vault?"

"A letter writer who picks up women in Times Square," Oliver and Shane said together and laughed.

"It started with a Treasure Box that held a key to a safety deposit box in that vault. The deposit box held a collection of letters written by Jonathan and Katharine who had met by accident in Times Square when they dropped the first New Years Ball. After the holiday, they kept up a long distance romance. I thought we were going to suffocate and to keep my mind occupied, Oliver and I read the letters to each other. Norman's cousin came in handy and managed to get the vault open. The divine delivery was actually delivering the letters to Jonathan and Katherine's grandson to encourage a collapsing marriage. We rescued those letters one week before they would have been lost forever."

"Oliver, that was a terrible first date."

"No," Shane said, wiping an eye. "It was wonderful. The terrible came later. But we had to have our first fight before anything else could begin."

"I'm waiting," Joe said.

"An urn containing the ashes of someone's mother ended up in the DLO. Shane and I delivered the urn to a woman named Maggie who contacted the two daughters of the mother. During the ordeal of getting the urn to the two siblings, Shane crossed the line of propriety and we had our first fight."

"What did you do?" Joe asked.

Shane fidgeted and chewed on the corner of her lower lip. "Well, I had noticed that Oliver was preoccupied with the Lost or Returned Basket for Paris. As if waiting for a letter that never showed up."

"Paris?" Joe gasped. "You didn't?"

Shane nodded. "I found Holly's address and showed Oliver that she had signed a long-term lease and was not coming back to Denver. She had abandoned him."

"It was a blatant invasion of my privacy," Oliver said.

"Oliver, we have already told you that Shane, that all of us were tired of watching you tear yourself up over someone who had obviously walked out on you," Rita said.

"A wrong does not equal a right," Oliver said. "Ever. But I do forgive you and have to admit that without Shane's indiscretion, the letter that I wrote to Holly in that bank vault would not have been mailed and I never would have heard the truth from her own lips. I would still be wearing a ball and chain."

"And dying in slow motion," Rita added.

"What? You mean Holly came back?"

"Yes. Sort of. Well, to settle matters. That is when I learned that divorce was inevitable and that it was time to move on."

"Tell your dad what you did then," Shane said.

Oliver smiled and snaked an arm around Shane. "I bought a porch swing and we sat in it."

"Oh Lord, what a romantic," Joe said and rolled his eyes.

"I know right? When Holly was here I wanted to tell her, "Go away and hurry," Rita said.

"Wait," Joe said. "Cora Brandt used to say when I was still at the Post Office."

"Yes," Rita said. "Cora worked in the DLO for a few weeks."

"Oh, I forgot the poem," Shane said. "We found one of Holly's poems online when she was here and had it translated. None of us speak French so we took the poem to Ramon and had him translate it." Shane stared laughing. "I don't remember what the poem was even about, but I do remember what Rita said to Ramon. When Ramon saw us he said, "When I said I was at your service Miss Rita, I meant it with all of my heart, but my heart could never imagine you would need my services so soon." What Rita - ." Shane was rocking back and forth while she laughed. "What Rita said was, "I never thought I would need to be serviced so soon." Shane laughed so hard she fell off the bench. Oliver helped her back up.

"What?" Rita asked. "I don't get it."

"Are we getting to the terrible date?" Joe asked.

"Well - ," Oliver started but Shane cut him off.

"When - ," Shane started but Rita cut her off.

"It was their Valentine's date at Montaldos," Rita said. "And what Shane told me was that it was like group therapy with seafood."

"What?" Joe asked.

"It was in context with a song that was being sung, a song about friends, commitment, and desperation. It was ugly. That's the terrible part."

"Lester Kimsicle! Paging Lester Kimsicle. Your table is ready."

"That's not funny Oliver," Shane said.

"And group therapy with seafood is?"

"You wanted to be my friend?" she asked, no longer laughing. "It was a Valentine's date and I was looking forward to it. You crushed me."

"Stop," Joe said. "When did this whole – odd dynamic begin?"

"At a coffee cart just a block from the Post Office," Shane said. "I was standing behind a very peculiar man who saw technology as some sort of sorcery. Booga-booga," she waved her fingers at Oliver.

"Booga-booga is a very technical DLO phrase," Norman offered.

"So Shane just shows up at the DLO one day?" Joe asked.

"Yes."

"Isn't that divine delivery too?"

"Not at first," Oliver laughed.

"She sort of did a Humpty Dumpty thing to Oliver's world," Rita said.

"Like a bull in a china shop when it came to rules and procedure?" Joe smiled.

"Oh no, dad. More like running with the bulls and trying not to get trampled," Oliver said.

"Don't mind Oliver," Shane said. "He's just been spending too much time in the warehouse without a hard hat."

"Well, all I know," Joe said, looking at his son, "is that when I went looking to reestablish contact with my son, it was Shane who twisted his arm."

"How could you possible know that?" Oliver asked.

Joe just chuffed as laughter surrounded the table. "Think about son, you'll get it. At this moment you are happier than I have ever seen you."

Oliver grinned. "Agreed. So, I think that Norman and Rita finding the dog that rescued you might be the top of the list for divine delivery theories," he said. "But there is one example that rivals that top spot."

Shane lifted Oliver's arm and snuggled under it. "A Christmas letter," she said.

"A little girl once wrote a letter to God and mailed it. Two decades later the letter ended up in my hands. I was tasked with returning the letter to that girl and giving her the answer that God had sent with it."

Papa Joes mouth dropped open. "You mean - ?"

"I was the little girl who wrote the letter," Shane said.

"And I – we," he said, gesturing to Norman and Rita, "were the answer that God sent in reply."

"It's more too," Shane added. "I mean, the answer God sent, the gift He sent, is a very special one that must be unwrapped little by little over a period of years."

Norman was staring at the space between the trees where night spilled into the campground. Rita saw the look and leaned closer.

"What are you watching Norman?" Charlie asked.

"I am still wondering where Bearthezar went to," he said. "I just don't know what happened to him."

"Do you want to know where he went?" Charlie asked.

"You know?"

"Bearthezar was one of the three wise men, wasn't he?"

"Yes. And a very good one."

"Well Norman, Melchior, Caspar, and - ," she chuckled, "and Bearthezar were the three Magi who brought gifts for the Christ Child that first Christmas. What you probably don't know is what they did after the Christmas was over. Do you know?"

Norman had never even considered the question before and it showed on his face. "No."

"Well, Norman, the Magi were sort of like the first Postables, entrusted with delivering very important letters of gold, frankincense and myrrh. And like Postables, they were dedicated to their calling. I think that when Bearthezar was finished with that pageant, he set out to carry the Christmas message to all the lost letters who need to hear it. That is why he has not returned to the DLO yet. He isn't finished."

Norman sat perfectly still, staring at the night around them. Then little by little, a smile grew on his face and his eyes lit up. "That makes sense," he said.

Oliver was smiling at Charlie. "You, Dear Lady, are a Postable at heart."


	5. That Thing You Do

Oliver stretched both arms wide, forcing kinks out of his neck, then he stood from the table, picked up his Yoo Hoo and took several steps backward into the dark. Night had given the campground walls as absolute as brick and mortar. The only light was from the campfire, two Coleman lanterns hung from tree limbs, and the yellowish glare of light that spilled from the open doors of the cinderblock building housing the amenities. The little family of Postables was laughing, eating, and playing remember-when around the Forest Service table in the midst of an oasis of joy. This was a nirvana of pine and fir where kombuchas were free-range and Kimsicles forbidden by Amy Vanderbilt's rules of etiquette and burly lumberjack's in possession of sharpened axes. The Postables had been loosed from the demands of NIFTS (Not Intended For the System) and the IRMs (Impossibly Ripped and Mangled) and the always popular CFSs (Can't Fix Stupid). Put another way, they were as happy as a herd of migrating clams on a closed beach; footloose.

Papa Joe's head snapped up suddenly, then swiveled to stare into the darkness as his nose sniffed at the air like a bloodhound on a mission.

"What is it dad?" Oliver asked.

"Not sure. There is a hint of - ," he sniffed again, "- rain. Might be a storm sneaking around the backside of this mountain."

"Not afraid of a little rain are we?"

Papa Joe did not look amused. "This is serious son. Have you ever been in a lightning storm in the mountains? It isn't like anything you've ever experienced and it isn't anything to trifle with."

"No. No dad I haven't. But I trust you will warn us if any storms approach." His father nodded, still sniffing at the air.

Oliver moved to stand behind Shane, letting one hand find her shoulder. Charlie caught his eye, then looked down at Joe's hand, then back up to his eye. It was a question, one that didn't need to be asked, but he understood. He bowed slightly at the waist and smiled, giving the permission that had been requested out of respect. Charlie's hand moved along the tabletop until it found Papa Joe's and settled there. Almost absently, the elder O'Toole picked up the hand and kissed the back of it, eyes, ears and nose still searching the night.

Shane stood and stepped under Oliver's arm, tucking herself into his embrace. "Curious, Mr. O'Toole," she whispered.

"Curiouser and curiouser, Ms McInerney," he answered.

Thunder rolled in the distance, echoing from one side of the valley to the other. Papa Joe's head snapped around again, anxiety pressing furrows into his forehead. Oliver saw it, thought about saying something, but then pushed his own concern aside. He turned, steering himself and Shane to the far end of the campground where a local landmark waited in the darkness.

At one time the landmark had been a triangular shaped granite boulder nearly six feet tall, twice as wide, and flat along its front face. Time and chance had broken off two large pieces on either side, then generations of pioneers and explorers had chiseled and worn the stone into a cross. At the bottom was a small basin to collect rainwater and a bench-like shelf wide enough for two to sit side by side with the cross rising directly behind them.

"Where are we going?" Shane asked.

"It is time for your lesson."

"What?"

"You wanted to know about that thing I do. It's time."

"Ok," she answered as they sat side by side on the bench, knees touching.

"So," he started. "There is only one lesson given in the Bible about prayer but I want to approach that gingerly," he said.

"Why?"

"You will know when we get there. In the Old Testament, Abraham prayed regularly, same with his son Isaac, then Jacob and so on. To them, prayer was as casual as talking to someone walking beside you. It's that simple as you have already discovered. The book of Proverbs teaches that the prayers of someone who pursues righteousness and wisdom are delightful in the eyes of God. He loves them."

"Delightful?"

"Indeed. He loves to hear from you about the things that concern you."

"But didn't you tell me He already knows my thoughts?"

Oliver smiled. "I did, yes. But do you see the contradiction?"

Shane looked down at her feet and pushed at pine straw with the toe of her boot for a minute. "I suppose it is that He knows what concerns me before I do."

"Exactly. That is why we are told to do that thing we do. It isn't magic words or a ritual, it's all about talking to Him, telling Him what it is that bothers you or that thing you are hoping for or maybe just to tell Him you feel happy."

Shane's eyes focused on firelight reflecting across Oliver's lips and she almost laughed. There is something that I am longing to hear, Lord, she thought. Three little words. If you are listening, do you already know what they are?

"More often than not," Oliver went on, "the understanding of a situation will come soon after praying. If one is patient and still. The only lesson in the Bible given about prayer is in the New Testament. Jesus' disciples asked Him to teach them how to pray. "When you pray," He told them, "say our Father.""

Shane flinched.

"Yes, Ms McInerney. That flinch brings us to a very important point. At a place called Gethsemane, Jesus prayed. He already knew that the Father was aware of what was in His heart and mind, but He prayed anyway. He also knew the answer. His prayer was a confession of humility and submission to the Father's plan. That thing we do is all about being honest with our heavenly Father, and that takes humility. If you are happy, thank Him. If you are ticked off, tell Him. But then be brave enough not to walk away. Sit and listen. I know why you flinched, so does He. But consider that even though the prayer you spoke as a little girl went unanswered for years, God never left your side. Not even when you hated Him. Prayer is not a soliloquy or an exercise in self-analysis. It isn't a chant or a liturgy to summon a charm. Yes, He knows your thoughts. But you talk to Him so that you may get to know Him and not the other way round. The simplest prayer recorded in scripture was spoken by one of the disciples who was looking at a watery grave. "Lord save me!" Three simple words, but the answer was immediate."

"I'm having a hard time getting a handle on that," Shane said.

Oliver laughed and then turned her so that they were looking at each other. "The point is like a kiss," he said, still laughing. That made her smile. "A kiss cannot happen unless were are face to face. Yes?"

She laughed. Then, "Oh. I see."

"You and I can be familiar across the expanse of this campground." Oliver leaned in close until their noses were just barely touching. They both started laughing. "But there is an intimacy that can only happen face to face," he said. "It is easier to know someone when you are this close than if we were standing far apart. We do that thing we do so that we can learn to narrow the gap and talk to God face to face. That thing we do is relationship." Oliver watched the smile grow across her face, and knew that she was going to kiss him.

But it was too late. In the blink of an eye the serene campground was transformed from a peaceful oasis into violent war zone. A blinding fork of lightning split the darkness and illuminated the bottoms of angry, black clouds churning directly above their heads. At the same time a howitzer blast of thunder rattled pebbles and shook the cross. Shane screamed with all the strength she had.

"Oliver!" Papa Joe shouted. "Shelter, now!" Papa Joe was waving, pointing toward the block building and herding Charlie, Norman and Rita that way to take advantage of the shelter it offered.

An intensely bright bolt stabbed the earth halfway between the cross and the block building that now protected their friends. The ground trembled and stones flew as ricochets around the campground. Shane started running but Oliver grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

"We won't make it!" he shouted against the noise, pulling her down to huddle with him at the foot of the cross. "The storm is already on top of us."

The ground under their feet was shuddering like a hiccupping escalator as she looked over her shoulder at the cross. "But this looks like a headstone in a cemetery," she said woefully.

Lighting exploded again and fifty yards away a hundred foot Noble Pine shattered into kindling. Another bright fork lit Oliver's face like a photographer's strobe and Shane saw the fear there, a fear that touched her heart and warmed her soul. Lightning reflected in his eyes and she knew deep within that the fear was not for himself, it was for her. For a moment time seemed to slow and the past, the present, and the future became as a flowing circle of living water. The pain of abandonment was trivial and forgiven, the hope of a future was real and within their grasp, and the love she felt for this man whose only concern was her safety became a flood unlike anything she had ever felt, a flood that surrounded her like an enveloping cushion. It was done and her heart was his, without reservation, without fear. She climbed into his lap, folding herself into his arms with her head next to his, her mouth near his ear. Then she held him with a grip that she knew she would never loose.

"Lord save us," she prayed and closed her eyes, trusting a living God with her heart and his. Even through closed eyelids she could see the lightning bolt that was birthed directly over their heads, see its vicious forks and turnings too fast for a human eye to follow. The unstoppable essence of power, a plasma hotter than the sun was coming for them.

Oliver's lips moved next to her ear. "I love you Shane," he whispered. She pulled away and blinked, stunned. "I didn't want to leave it unsaid," he added and she smiled. The ground shook as white hot fury shattered just a few feet above their heads, erupting outward in a fountain of blazing droplets that fell hissing to the ground. "And now abide faith, hope and love, these three," Oliver whispered, then took her face in his hands and kissed her.

As quickly as it had come, the storm moved on leaving only a gentle shower of rain in its wake. Shane felt like laughing as she heard the sound of running steps and the anxious voices of their friends.

"That was some kind of fireworks!" Norman shouted.

"Shane!" Rita said. "You are glowing like a light bulb."

"Uh-huh," Shane said.

"And I don't think that's because of lightning," Papa Joe laughed.

"Uh-huh," Shane said again, then touched the side of Oliver's face tenderly. "For just a second there, I thought I saw Jordan Marley standing over us, holding up his hands to deflect that last lightning bolt," she said quietly.

"Imagine that," Oliver laughed.


End file.
